


Home

by Morganaismyqueen



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Napollya - Freeform, OOC maybe, OT3 friendship, look ive got a problem im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:19:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morganaismyqueen/pseuds/Morganaismyqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Napoleon left a few days later, he intentionally left his crystal set pushed into a corner on Illya's dirty kitchen counter and if he also managed to leave a few books on the rickety table next to Illya's bed nobody mentioned a thing to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Napoleon finds out that Illya hasn't really done much with his new apartment in New York. Like barely any furniture, no decorations, etc. and Napoleon is like NOPE and tries to sneakily leave things at illya's place to make it feel more like a home  
> (ooooh how i love you anon)

Napoleon had never been to Illya's apartment before, UNCLE kept them all rather busy and usually after a mission debriefing Illya would vanish in the hallways of HQ before Napoleon could even begin to try to follow him but this time Napoleon had been prepared and had left Gaby in the middle of a sentence just so he could rush to follow Illya

Sue him, he's curious! Illya is a very closed and quiet book and anytime something is mysterious or simply not helpful...Napoleon feels an urge to crack it open and find out whats inside and seeing where he lives is definitely the first step

He followed Illya through what was most of New York city and just as Napoleon was starting to slightly regret his decision to follow Illya on this biting November morning, Illya wandered to an actual neighborhood and Napoleon felt he would not be able to contain his joy and he eagerly waited to see which building Illya would go into, would it be that nice one at the corner, that townhouse down that road--Illya went into a small almost decrepit looking apartment and Napoleon frowned, UNCLE might not be the best when it came to funding for many things (as he himself found out when he wanted an UNCLE funded place of living) but certainly they were better than this. Why would Illya want to live here of all places? 

Napoleon had his answer when he heard not one or two people but most of the people on the street using Russian instead of English, ah so Illya had decided to live among his own even here in New York. Well, Napoleon could understand that. 

After finding out where Illya's apartment was located however, Napoleon grew bored and eventually caught a cab and was able to head home.

His curiosity got the better of him around Christmas.

They had just returned from a mission abroad (simply an information exchange really and it was only in London, nothing exciting) and Waverly dismissed them quickly and while Gaby lingered to speak with Waverly over something or another about the contact who had given them the information, Napoleon rushed to match his tall Russian friends stride down the hall.

Illya glanced over at him when he finally did catch up and did not say anything until they were out of the building and only deigned to speak to Napoleon after he continued next to Illya all the way down the street, Illya stopped and cocked his head a bit to the side

"Are you lost, Cowboy?"

Napoleon smiled at the nickname, still not used to how nice it was when Illya was friendly, even after several months of a moderately successful relationship "Not at all, Peril. I was thinking we could go grab a drink or something, celebrate a mission gone well and a happy holiday season."

Illya rolled his eyes and tugged his hat a bit further over his head in the face of the wind that blasted at them as they stood and spoke in the cold "I am going home, Cowboy and I intend to relax there. Do you not have friends?"

Napoleon slapped Illya on the shoulder and tugged him forward a bit and resumed walking, as though this was something they did frequently "Of course, you're my friend and I wanted to spend the evening with you and a nice drink in my hand and I don't care where we do it, your apartment will be fine."

Illya huffed but didn't protest and simply walked them to his apartment, if he noticed that Napoleon seemed to know the way more than he should have...he didn't see fit to mention it.

When they arrived at the building Illya grunted something at him about the elevator being out and that they would have to take the stairs to his floor. Napoleon only groaned when he found out it was five floors up and that the building was drafty as all hell and he complained dramatically all the way up the staircases until Illya told him that he would shove him down them all unless he shut up.

He did, not because he really thought Illya would do it but you could never be too sure with him.

Illya unlocked the dingy looking gray door with a detached sort of look on his face and simply left the door open behind him for Napoleon to close and wandered off, Napoleon presumed to his kitchen to grab a bottle of something strong. Brighton Beach may not be the best neighborhood but Napoleon was sure they had some strong hooch.

It was only as Napoleon was unwrapping his scarf from his neck that he took in the walls in the living area and noticed they were all blank, from there he wandered into the bedroom and noticed that they too, had no decoration and it would seem that Illya had only a plain bed with no bedposts and grey sheets and dear lord his entire room was a terrible blank gray canvas. It was like a prison cell! What had the KGB done to Illya's taste!

Illya must have noticed he had wandered away and he came into his bedroom with a vaguely annoyed expression, holding a large bottle of vodka and two glasses in his hands and made a rough noise at Napoleon, which jarred him from his trance of horror at the gray depressingness of the apartment.

"Peril, where are all your things? Did they get lost on the ride over from dear old Russia?"

Illya looked at him, baffled. "I have my things here, my clothing is in the closet, my drinks are in the kitchen and I have soviet approved books in bookshelf. What else would I need?"

Napoleon numbly took the glass Illya offered him "You don't have any paintings? Any fun books? A television? At the very least man you should have personal weapons or a lamp or something on your nightstand!"

Illya snorted "Classic American, I do not need meaningless things to live. I live fine." And then Illya had shuffled Napoleon out of the room and things had been dropped

For a few months, and then Napoleons apartment was found out by some enemies of UNCLE and he was forced to stay a few nights somewhere else and after the first night Gaby had told him to go find Illya because she could not live with him when he was like this (unhappy about his needed change in apartments, he had liked his apartment.) He had taken a crystal set for drinking, a few glasses and a container for the supply of alcohol itself when he had left his apartment. Sentimentalist he was, he had a few things he grabbed before UNCLE herded him out like he was a dog (he would later get his things back but for now, he was being whiny about it and he didn't particularly care) he found himself quickly outside Illya's door and after a slight bickering argument he was allowed to stay there and he dragged his two suitcases and his little drinking set in with him and shook his head at the still dismal walls of the place. Illya didn't even have proper furniture for crying out loud! He had the most basic set for an apartment Napoleon had ever seen and it just honestly made him sad but he heaved a sigh and sat next to Illya on his faded blue couch that was pushed up against his dingy grayish white walls and began his drinking for the night, leaving the supply on the dirty counter for Illya to grab if he wanted.

When Napoleon left a few days later, he intentionally left his crystal set pushed into a corner on Illya's dirty kitchen counter and if he also managed to leave a few books on the rickety table next to Illya's bed nobody mentioned a thing to him.

One spring morning, Napoleon woke up and began sorting through an old art 'collection' of his (the CIA hadn't found or taken everything.) and after pondering for a few moments he took three of the paintings he had (none of which were anything fancy. Mostly scenery and nothing very famous but truly beautiful nonetheless) and carefully broke into Illya's apartment and found places to hang them on the walls. He placed two (a forest on a sunny morning and a portrait of a woman in a field looking into a clear blue sky) in the living room, the other (a portrait of a man in study, serious but very well done) on the wall near Illya's bed in the bedroom.

Napoleon placed them in their locations carefully and noted that Illya had moved the books he had left the last time he was there but had not removed them, it would appear actually that he had read them as several were now dogeared where Napoleon had not marked them.

The next time Illya went out of town, Napoleon broke into his apartment yet again but this time he left two much nicer cushioned chairs (both a lighter blue as Illya appeared to like that color) a small, not very pretty but nice and sturdy coffee table and a small off blue loveseat where the lumpy blue couch used to be. Napoleon then replaced Illya's bed, knowing just by appearance that it was probably quite uncomfortable.

Illya came into the office the day after returning and looked better rested than Napoleon had ever seen him. Napoleon had never felt prouder of himself.

Napoleon offered to cook Illya a dinner one night, but instead of having Illya over to his place as this would be traditionally...he insisted he come to Illya's and having arrived made himself quite at home and even managed to leave a few kitchen supplies of his own when he departed later that night.

Napoleon even started to note that Illya was starting to actually look at home when he was at UNCLE HQ and that Illya's apartment was starting to look like a person actually lived there.

Illya started to invite him over more and more and even dared to ask Napoleon out to a dinner in his favorite local diner (he didn't call it a date but Napoleon knew a date when he saw one) and later when they were having drinks in Illya's living room, Napoleon noticed that Illya had repainted his bedroom a much better goldenish yellow in place of the dingy gray he had before and had even rearranged Napoleons art in a pleasing way. His bookshelf however now proudly boasted Napoleons books on them and Napoleon found himself smiling all the way home that night.

If he quietly found out Illya's favorite book topics and bought a bigger bookshelf and installed it the next weekend while Illya was out with Gaby, well...no one could prove it was him.

Illya repainted his living room a light brown next, and even found curtains that eerily resembled the ones Napoleon had in his own apartment that matched the rest of the decor perfectly. This mixmatched apartment was truly starting to feel like a home now, even for Illya.

Illya told him one day that he had lived in barracks or apartments close to barracks his entire adult life, so it hadn't really ever occurred to him that he could change his surroundings and that he might enjoy it. Napoleon made sure to go to his apartment that weekend and placed candles and knicknacks from his own home around. This was what a home felt like and Illya deserved to have one of his own finally.

Gaby eventually got in on it as well and when she stayed over she started leaving jackets or shoes, makeup in the bathroom and eventually it was more or less like all three of them just interchangeably lived in each others apartments and Napoleon could not have been happier...unless Illya lived with him officially..then..well he might be happier.

Illya and Napoleon took the next step in their relationship a year and a half after Napoleon had begun decorating Illya's home.

three months after they did that, Illya found photographs and more books had found their way into his home and his favorite snacks were always in the kitchen and he had to smack Solo's shoes out of his way almost every morning and he realized that Russia wasn't his home, it never really was. Solo was his home, Gaby and this place with the marks of their friendship pocked all over it. This was home.

**Author's Note:**

> bc of a prompt from tumblr (thank youuu anon i really loved this) again, kudos/advice/comments are all appreciated!
> 
> my tumblr is [here](http://somepeoplearejustborntobequeen.tumblr.com/)


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